


the wisdom of cats

by oonaseckar



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Animal Shelter, Bucky Barnes Has Cats, Cats, F/M, Gen, Herding Cats, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar
Summary: The Winter Soldier wants a cat.  Steve isn't exactly gonna argue.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 22
Kudos: 51





	1. Sōseki the cat has two Daddies

**Author's Note:**

> Work title is from Hippolyte A. Taine.  
> First chapter title is mock-Priscilla Galloway, with name borrowed from 'I Am A Cat' author Natsume Sōseki..

I am the cat who walks by himself, for I – no, hang on a minute. In fact, I rarely actually walk by myself, to tell the truth. That's because I live in Avengers Towers. And my best friends are Dum-E and Butterfingers, who keep up as best they can, bleeping and blooping, when I go exploring around the Towers. They are–. Well. They're a little bit difficult to explain, to be perfectly honest. As far as types of cat go, I'm not quite sure how to identify them. But they must be quite a rare breed, because none of the kitties at the shelter where my daddies found me had a coat quite like them. Even the bald one.

I do rather think that they must be related to the Canadian sphynx, or the Peterbald or Donskoy, though – those Egyptian ones? Or the Russians? I mean, they don't have any hair, right? But I've never met cats quite as... shiny, as Dum-E and B. That's all right, though. They're my buddies, and we've been tight since I moved into the Towers. Daddy-Captain and Daddy-Soldier brought me home in a cardboard carrier, with holes punched in. But I couldn't see a lot, arriving, and coming up in the elevators, and when they took me into the big communal media room to introduce me to everyone.

It was exciting, but nerve-wracking as well. The most important day of my life! That morning at the shelter had begun just the same as all the ones before it: the volunteers putting fresh food and clean litter in my cage, petting me a little but then moving on to the hoity-toity Siamese bitch in the next cage, feeling a little sad and lonesome like any abandoned kitty would. But bracing myself up, telling myself that _this might be the day,_ the day that visitors would come looking for a kitty and pick me, _choose_ me, give me a real home...

Well, there were a couple of chances I missed – New Year, of course there were people looking for a new pet. But both couples went sailing right past me, looking for a puppy or kitty who was – prettier, or sassier, or one that had a few fancy tricks up its furry sleeve. I don't know. I guess I wasn't as cute as some of the other pets: I was about half-grown, so I wasn't a properly cute fluffy kitten. But I wasn't an elegant full-grown cat either: just at that awkward teenager stage, and I guess I was pretty depressed into the bargain. Well, _you_ try living in a homeless shelter, and being stuck in a cage twenty-two hours a day, see how you like it.

So I was huddled up in a corner of my cage, and maybe a mite sulky and gloomy, not the perky making-new-friends kitty who was going to snag a home and family. Not that day.

That's what I thought, anyway, after two couples had ignored me in favour of a lugubrious French bulldog and a perky mongrel with some zazzy tricks learnt from homeless street magicians.

Then there was a bit of a fuss and commotion, at the office end of the shelter. And Peter, my favorite volunteer, came almost running and tripping down the aisle in front of the cages, walking backwards, talking his head off like normal. “Sure, come along in and have a look, Captain! And, um... sir! I'm sure we'll have the perfect pet for you!”

I was curious. Peter is a sweetie, but he's an overworked college student with two jobs besides volunteering at the shelter. He doesn't usually have the energy to get quite _that_ excited, about anything much. And the 'Captain' sounded intriguing. (I love a military man.)

So I got up and padded to the front of my cage, miaowing curiously. And got a look at the two fellas that Paul was shepherding through the shelter. One was a big blond human male, but he wasn't dressed in uniform – just old khakis and a button-down shirt. But He had a nice face. And a nice smile too, and when he crouched down to look at kitties and puppies in their cages, his voice was gentle.


	2. women and cats will do as they please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a cat home, let it get used to its new pets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Robert A. Heinlein.

The fellow with him, I wasn't so sure about. He was clipped and neat and polished, smartly dressed and upright. If he'd been a dog he'd have been straight out of the hands of the trainer and yipping after me, giving chase -- definitely a working animal, a hunting dog -- but he was a bit intimidating anyway, even human. His face was expressionless, and he stood back with his arms folded, as the blond fellow knelt down and cooed and aah'ed at my fellow inmates. Oh, and his folded arms: one of his hands was shiny and bright, glinting in the strip lights of the shelter.

I'd never seen that before. I had second thoughts about my interest and enthusiasm, and began to quietly retreat, back to the back of my cage.

The inmate that the blond fellow –- it was Him that Peter kept calling Captain, as they made their way up the line of cages towards me -- the inmate that he liked best, obviously, was a little Jack Russell called Toby. Not a bad lad, but a bit snappy and argumentative, and not too affectionate, with it. But the Captain was quite taken with him, got him out of the cage with Peter's permission and played at _drag the chew toy_ with him, Toby leaping up and snapping with his wicked little jaws.

The Captain looked back to his companion, and cocked his head. “Cute, isn't he? What do you think, _Soldier_?”

The Soldier – I supposed that was his name? - shook his head. “нет,” he said, decisively.

And he came forward, and... he came up to the front of _my_ cage, instead, and knelt down. Fiddled with the lock, with a meaningful look at Peter, who looked startled. But he said, “Oh, sure! Erm, he's a little bit gloomy, today – but he's a really nice cat. Um, we've tried a couple of names on him, but he's not really responsive to anything, so you could name him afresh for yourselves... If you liked him?”

The Soldier clicked open my lock –- amazingly fast, and with something going on with his metal hand that was flashing too quick to follow –- and reached out his hand to me. His shiny hand, and I was a little bit shy of going to him, although I'm friendly enough, if coaxed a little bit. But he wiggled those shiny fingers at me, and pursed his lips to give me a phoney stern look, and then a smile, and said, “возглас удивления!”

Well, I had a good feeling about him, now. And I am an adventurer, a pirate cat, a cat who walks on the wild side, now and then. I walked up to him proudly, and let him pick me up with that shiny arm, and lift me up onto his shoulder, as he stood up. Underneath my paws, I could feel that my hind paws rested on thin rayon over shiny silverness, and my front ones on warm smooth hairless skin under fabric.

It was very odd. But I liked him fine, now, as he held me in place firm and secure and friendly, and turned to his fair-haired friend. Who said, “Well, he seems like a nice little fella, I suppose. Are you sure, though? You don't think that maybe little Toby, here...” And he nodded down at the Jack Russell, who gave me a short and resigned look, and said in a canine yip, ' _Good luck with 'em, kiddo. Try not to nip the young 'uns if they got any, even if they drag you around by the tail. They tend not to like it._ '

But the Soldier, who was standing tall and proud even as I stood tall and proud on his strange piebald shoulder, said, “I know what I want. You oughtta know that, Rogers.” And they grinned at each other, and the Captain laughed. (It was funny that the Soldier seemed to randomly switch between English and Russian, but no problem to me. You mix with all sorts out on the street, and in an animal shelter for that matter. Plenty of humans and animals I've met from the isles over the sea, who've told me all kinds of tales, and I've picked up a bit of the lingo from all over.)


	3. Sōseki-kitty also has a bunch of uncles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intros at Avengers HQ. Let's hope the gang make the grade.

“Well, all right,” said Captain Blondie. He reached out a hand and scritched me companionably behind the ear, and it hit an itch _just right._ This was a fella who knew cats. I felt like we could get along, right out of the gate. “I guess he'll suit us pretty well in any case,” he added, to his friend. “These pure breeds, they're real nice and pretty and all, but face it, we're going to get along better with a mutt, you and me, whatever the species.”

"What, are you sayin' we're a coupla mongrels off the streets, here, Rogers?" the Soldier said to him, his own shiny hand rubbing my shoulders, nice and cosy and like I belonged to them already. And he grinned at his friend, and the Captain leaned in and kissed him, and that was the three of us, a family. And that was how I came to live at Avengers Towers.

xxx

Picking a name for me, that didn't come together so easy, maybe. That conversation was one that started up, pretty much five minutes after I'd been unpacked like a Christmas present from the cardboard carrier the shelter had provided, to stand in the middle of a room with couches lined up against three of the walls, and a huge screen hanging on the other one. There were people lounging around everywhere I looked, people I'd never met, and I felt a little shy. That didn't stop me preening a bit, when I realized that I was pretty much the centre of attention there, though. There'd been a lot of mumbling and chatter before the carrier was opened up, and then a loud, “Ta-da!” -- I think it was the Captain –- as the little dark box opened up. And I suddenly found myself in my new home, with a whole bunch of new friends.

“Oh, pretty!”

“A kitty! You gotta kitty! There's a new feline superhero on the team!"

“Seriously, have you cleared this with JARVIS? He may not appreciate competition for being the unofficial boss of this place?”

“Come here, sweetie! Hey, guys, thanks for the present: a lab-cat will be _perfect_ stress-relief for when the MK18 version of my suit blows up, just like the last seventeen. Come to poppa, baby!”

And, yeah, like that. That was just a sample of the clamor and coaxing that surrounded me on all sides, and it was just a little discombobulating. But nice, and flattering, to have them all courting me and coaxing me to come to 'em for a little petting. I stood a bit uncertainly there, and purred a shy, “Prrrrrrt!” at 'em in general – my way of saying, “Howdy!”

But the Soldier rescued me from this gaggle of strange, chatty folks, picking me up and putting me on his shoulder once again. And in Russian –- coming in handy once again –- he barked out at them to _shut up,_ because maybe if they demonstrated all their crazy all at once I'd just run away right then on my first day in the Towers. They seemed to get the gist of it, because the hubbub quieted down a bit, and I relaxed there in his sure safe pair of hands. And the Captain stood beside him, and whispered in my ear –- maybe just loud enough that everyone else heard him as well. “We'll take you round and introduce you, kitty, huh? One by one: and with a few words of warning, too. So that you know who and what to look out for.”

And that's just what they did, making the rounds of the room, inhabitant by inhabitant. The Soldier solemnly introduced me to their friends –- the 'Avengers', apparently? - and the Captain murmured little bits of description and advice in my ear about them, one by one.

“Miss Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. Madame!” (Cue a little bow, and a solemn low purr from me. “You can trust Nat. In any crisis, find her, stick with her, and she'll destroy all comers. Also she never wears anything but cat-ears and a basque at Halloween, so you should get along.”)


	4. CATS ARE NICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki believes all cats belong to him by divine right. Well, he would say that, wouldn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe the chapter title comes from Terry Pratchett.

“Mr Bruce Banner.” (“Ah. Bruce is a good guy too. Ah... except... this one is hard to explain. If he gets upset about anything, just head for the hills, okay? What? No? I... Oh. Bruce says the Hulk likes kitties. Okay, we're good, you don't need to worry. Stress relief? Okay, bud, if Bruce is upset, you just jump on him and start purring and we're probably good to go, okay?”)

“And Mr Sam Wilson.” (“Sam is the best. Watch out for his yellow one-eyed cat Bertha, though, she's kind of evil. Actually I think she's a HYDRA plant. You're not meeting her until you've filled out a little, she'd flatten you.”)

“Clint Bart-- Clint? Clint?” (“Damn it. He was here a minute ago – where is – is that a vent? That vent was not here yesterday! What the hell is that man doing to the structural integrity of Avengers Towers!? Kitty, have you heard of the Childcatcher? Well, this guy –- that guy –- well, he's not here right now, but when you spot a guy with a cowlick and a bow and arrow, you should trust him about as much as –- just, if he has catnip, and he tries to get you to follow him into any air-vents in the ceiling, don't pay him any mind! He is of the devil!”

“Aaaand... Mr Loki.” (The Soldier sounds like he isn't too sure that the title is deserved, or habitual. The long-haired lanky fellow asleep on one end of a couch –- who has somehow slept through all the commotion of my arrival –- wakes up, on being introduced. And he doesn't require an explanation: assesses the situation with no more than a swift glance around the circle, a good look at my new daddies, and then fixing his eyes upon me firmly.

“Cat,” he says – not inaccurately, it sums up the situation. And he extends his hand imperiously, and waggles it in my direction. “Come hither. All cats belong to me by magical right. Thank you for my gift, Captain, Soldier.”


	5. the smallest feline is a masterpiece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki exerts his powers of spooky, aka feline hypnosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is Leonardo da Vinci.

Both my daddies just laugh at him, but the fellow with the fur on his face –- who I haven't formally met, yet –- responds with a wisecracking tone of voice. “Yeah, your divine rights don't extend to _cats_ , Loki! The cat belongs to the Captain and the Soldier: although I guess the rest of us have subsidiary rights as Avengers. That right? Cap? Is kitty here officially Avengers-cat, now, hey?”

“Don't presume too much on it, Tony,” the Captain warns, to that. “Your kitty-rights are strictly limited, no matter what cat-related gadgets you come up with. Actually, scratch that: precisely _because_ of the cat-related gadgets you're liable –- almost certain –- to come up with. I warn you in advance, there will be no feline booty jet-packs involved in our cat's future. You hear me, Tony?”

The furry-faced man just looks at him innocently, and says, “What? What was that? Sorry, Cap, I was just having a beautiful dream about flying kitties and cat fighter-pilots, battling kitty aces amidst the clouds... Tiny little leather jackets, like the one my old dad had, and air-goggles... You know how it is. Here, kitty, kitty!”

“And that's Tony,” the Soldier says in my ear. His tone seems to imply, on a profound basis, _about whom the less said the better._

But he isn't even the main issue, because it seems as if slinky, green-eyed Loki hasn't given up on his claim. Instead he slinks up behind the Soldier and the Captain, making twitchy kissy _hello-kitty_ noises, and extending a hand to me –- carefully, avoiding notice –- luring me to him. Luring me to _come to him._ To abandon ship from the safety of the Soldier's shoulder, and launch myself into his arms, to _choose_ a new owner and a new family.


	6. "It doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Loki, you fiend. Cap ain't playin', though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Alice In Wonderland.

And the thing is, I was _tempted_. It was hard to explain, because even on the basis of a few hours of belonging to the Captain and the Soldier, it was wonderful and I loved them and I was absolutely thrilled to be their cat, adopted and belonging and part of a happy family.

But Loki's eyes were very green, and the little smile on his face as he cocked his head was so hypnotic, and I felt my hind legs tense to jump, and –-

The Soldier's hand clamped down on my rear end and put paid to any ideas my paws might have had about going anywhere. And suddenly everyone was swiveled around and looking at Loki. Who was backing off, just slightly, and looking mighty innocent. Although not very convincingly. “Loki,” the Captain said, “are you putting your creepy mind-control moves on _our cat_?” And although he'd been nothing but sweet to me so far, and in the hours I'd known him I'd already witnessed him holding doors open for little old ladies –- and rescuing a cat, to wit, me –- there was _that_ in his tone which suggested that if his patience were tried, then he might kill a man on very little provocation.

(I think the Soldier liked it. He pressed up close to the Captain, as the Captain loomed over Loki, and I could have walked from his shoulder to Cap's as he nuzzled in and pressed his face, eyes closed, to the nape of the Captain's neck. I wouldn't have thought the threat of violence would be such a turn-on, but then there was a rascally old tom who escaped from the shelter just a couple of days after they brought me in, and though he was a real old brawler and not exactly a feline David Niven, no moonlight and roses off old Ripper _ho_ no, well--. Well, in short, let's say my first litter of kits is still to come, but it was a derned close-run thing, dern tootin'. He almost took the eye off a snooty Siamese who'd gone after a treat Peter Parker gave him, and there was something about his savagery that just -- well, moving right along. But I felt like I could understand the Soldier, anyhow.)


	7. cats are a mysterious kind of folk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor makes a better first impression than Loki. Well, barring his beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Sir Walter Scott.

Loki attempted a dignified response, but that was by no means an easy thing, not facing that expression on the Captain's face.

"That would be beneath my dignity, Captain Rogers," he answered stiffly, rigid as a dolly in his interesting shiny leather bodysuit. "And without purpose. All cats succumb eventually to my wiles -- much as with all women. And most men." Well, someone thought well of himself, certainly. And he even dared to reach out to pet me, standing at attention right there on the Soldier's shoulder.

Well, biting one of the crew may not be the best introduction one can make. But a cat has instincts -- and feelings -- and I am a hunter, a predator, when all is said and done.

And it was only a very _little_ nip. I do think he made a quite unreasonable fuss.

And as he blustered up and finished shrieking, red-faced -- not a very good look, along with the horns -- the big blond bearded chap near to him was laughing fit to beat the band."

"Why, brother," he boomed, "it seems neither cats, nor females, find you quite so irresistible as you would have us trust! Fie, why I remember, you got much the same answer from our good Lady Sif, back at the feast in the Great Hall in the longwinter, and you amorous and in your cups! I though she might take your codpiece off at the root, or find another use for your horns, brother!"

"Oh, very funny, Thor," Loki managed -- gave a curt bow to the assembled company, and stormed off. Not much regretted by me -- he'd given me the creeps -- and anyway, there were all of the other Avengers yet to meet. Miss Jane, and Phil, and the Ant fellow, and for some reason sweet Peter Parker was in attendance too... All of them delightful, though I got lost in Thor's beard. And needed a little help to find my way out again.

"And what honorific will you bestow upon this magnificent creature?" the Lord Thor demanded -- a very good question, too, I felt. Although it was a little too discombobulating to hear his big thundering voice booming out, while I was still entangled in the golden bristles of his beard, with the Captain gently stroking me to keep me still, while teasing out the tangles and getting me free. I felt the vibration all through my body, and although I liked this god of thunder very much, I felt that just a little twiddle on the volume knob, and my skeleton might have disarticulated and fallen apart.


	8. cats don't have names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A name for Avengers cat!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Neil Gaiman's Coraline.

There were plenty of suggestions for a name from the rest of the Avengers. Eagerly called out, almost immediately fighting amongst themselves for the privilege of naming a new member of the family. Miss Pepper was emphatic about _Oscar_ , and Mr Stark was wanting _Galileo_ or _Feynman_ , and was quickly shouted down by Everyone barring Bruce. "He's a _kitty_ ," Miss Jane said witheringly. "Give him a kitty name -- not something that just announces what a humungous assortment of nerds we are!"

"Wooster?" Happy suggested. "Like an assistant to Jarvis, who is Jeeves around here, after all…"

"Year, yeah. Pipe down, you guys," the Captain said, authoritative. "Now, we're not all humungous geeks, like Jane says -- well, not science geeks, anyway. I was thinking maybe _Arthur_ \-- or _Pablo_ \-- you know, both Arthur Rackham and Picasso made some amazing paintings of cats--"

And he stopped, with a question in his voice. But not a question for the rest of the Avengers -- a fig for _their_ opinions, clearly. No, he was only looking at the Soldier -- not even at me.

The Soldier, who shook his head and paused for a moment, petted me. Then said, "She is a girl. How can we call her Arthur? She is _Sōseki_ ," quite decisively.

???, said the rest of the Avengers. Or might as well have. Bewildered silence was followed by bewildered outcry. Which the Soldier silenced, with one metallic hand upraised.

"' _I Am A Cat'_ ,' he said firmly. "A tale -- many tales -- of the nameless house-cat, written by Soseki Natsume. There you are. She has a name. Use it."

And he strode out of the great sofa-strewn communal room, with me still riding upon his shoulder like the figure at a ship's prow, an emblem, a symbol.

Out of the corner of my eye, I only saw the Captain turn to raise an eyebrow at the assembled company, and shrug. "Well, you heard him," he summed it up. And grinned, and followed after me and the Soldier, at a fair clip too.


	9. when the mouse laughs at the cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The labourer is worthy of his hire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Nigerian proverb.

But the thing that was the best of all, that was to settle into the Captain and the Soldier's own private quarters, though -- their own floor in the Towers. Not that I was so very busy there most days, not occupied at all. I used to get fed at a couple of restaurant kitchens, in my homeless days, in return for dead mice, and in some ways I missed being a working cat. A job to do, and a rhythm to the day, you know? Someone the Captain called 'Jarvis' ran the place, and ran it like a military operation -- never a little mouse or roach to play with and hunt, to justify my keep and all of the snacks that the Soldier sneaked me.

Oh, but I tell a lie -- one morning there _was_ a stray little mouse, wandered in through the pipework and frantically jerking from one direction to another in the kitchen, trying desperately to find its way out. And I was up on my haunches, taut with excitement, poised on the kitchen work-surface -- naughty, and I certainly knew better than that by this time -- all ready, to leap. To pounce. To snap, and crunch, and make short work of that skinny little mousie, just a crunchy delectable _amuse-bouche_ before the Captain opened a tin of the delicious _deluxe_ wet cat-food, that he paid a king's ransom for at Tony Stark's favorite deli. (While drinking instant coffee himself, and wearing army-issue tighty-whities.)


End file.
